


Get me OFF

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zacharie did have a reason to own an office in his theme park. <i>Privacy.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Get me OFF

There was no reason, really, to have an office.

The theme park required no real maintenance. The Elsen were always too scared to move an inch once they stepped inside. Even breathing too loudly would upset him. And none of them had a single trouble-making bone in their bodies. Specters only made a mess when they murdered, except when they were purified themselves. Most of the time the specters just kept out of the park and didn't bother to haunt inside. So why hiring anything besides a janitor? Why check up on the place, really?

Besides, Zacharie rarely visited his park, only to ride the roller coaster every once in a while and to wave to the Elsen to make them uncomfortable. He preferred to move between the Zones with Pablo, and being mobile gave the added benefit of always being there for his customers. If he ever wanted to invest in billboards, that would be Zacharie's slogan.

Except he did have a reason for an office in his park. _Privacy._ And, at this moment, he was very, very glad he did have an office, so he did not risk the chance of running into Pablo (or Pablo running into them) at the various locations he maintained as a merchant.

He kept little in his office besides some wares he could never sell, and even then he kept those in chests about the room. However little those objects meant to them, he did not appreciate the Batter strolling in and _stealing_ them all for his own benefit. Now, when the Batter admitted to it (and in such a casual way that he felt _offended_ ), Zacharie demanded credits in return, of course.

When the Batter denied, he came up with another method, a two-way deal for a favored customer and an entitled bastard. A favor, that's all, and he could keep the (useless to Zacharie, but never mind that) materials.

His office, eight o'clock. By the time most of the Elsen had scattered back to the residential area. By the time he could lock the door and have no one knock. No further information, just come. And the Batter agreed without extra input - a grunt and acceptance.

Zacharie had no idea what gave him the courage to ask and why he decided then, but he was damn happy he took the chance while he could. And damn happy the Batter obliged.

But there was no way he could make a joke or form even a proper smirk when the Batter _looked_ at him that way while he masturbated in front of him.

 _Fuck,_ did he regret allowing the Batter to handcuff his hands behind the chair. That was the one rule the Batter insisted upon. There were already cuts blotting his skin, bruises soon to blue and ripen in pain. Surely, if the Batter continued to just _look_ he would suffer. He needed friction like Elsen need smoke. He was sweating like a guilty man on trial, and he needed the Batter to come over and touch him instead of himself. Such was the situation at hand so far.

Hot under the collar and flushed in the face, he watched as the Batter stroked himself languidly - mockingly - and licked his lips at his struggle in his chair. The Batter obviously seemed to have gotten the better end of this deal, his hand thrown over his own chair so his nude body was sprawled out in full attention for Zacharie. Shamelessly showing off in some passive-aggressive ploy, that's all. No need to be so begging...so he grinded his moans between his teeth before they could slip out.

The Batter had stashed his uniform in a pile by the door, and the air conditioner would, every once in a while, toss them up playfully in the breeze. Although...the ventilation system didn't seem to be doing much for the sweat trickling down Zacharie's face as the Batter rubbed a finger over the tip of his dick. Slowly, he circled around the edges, and he moved to trace a line down the shaft. _Then_ did Zacharie shiver.

Zacharie's chair groaned against the floor as he shook in his seat, shaking it closer to the desk. The Batter raised a black eyebrow at his movements before throwing his head back with a dramatic moan, giving himself a long stroke. The tables needed to be flipped; he was the one who stole his shit in the first place, anyway. This was supposed to be punishment and not...not...not as arousing as it should be to be tied to his own chair.

Closer to the desk, Zacharie arched his spine so he could rub against the wood. The Batter kept his eyes on Zacharie as the masked man began to slide back and forth, muttering angry words under his breath. Almost indistinctly, Zacharie could hear the Batter growl in response. It wasn't a seductive noise; it sounded like a puppy denied a treat. Zacharie laughed under his mask and the Batter let out another growl from deep in his throat.

He pressed his cock against the desk, thrusting in pace with the Batter. Mimicking his friend, he threw his head back with a gasp.

The Batter's breath hitched in his throat. Then, his speed increased with three heavy, slick slaps and several grunts, breaking eye contact for that moment. His muscles tensed - his hissed as he clenched his jaw - and he came onto the floor.

Panting, he looked back up at Zacharie, seated properly back in his chair, legs splayed.

"That was nice," Zacharie commented, smiling brightly under his mask, "Now get over here and get me off."


End file.
